


Mutiny Below

by Eleftheria_F



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26773963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleftheria_F/pseuds/Eleftheria_F
Summary: In the harsh and dangerous life during America’s Wild West in the 1890s, Marco’s main focus is to stay alive. But when he takes in a no-longer-rich man who has lost everything, he is exposed to a world he never knew could exist.
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. Mutiny Below

Boots lazily scrapped off the dusty ground, little specs of dirt flying around at each step. The brown leather was seeing its last days, it had been through snow, rain, storms and boiling heat. The state of Couby had never been warmer, unlucky for some. The somewhat deserted wasteland had became home for people who could stand such a heat. Small villages were formed across the desert, which were surrounded by large and steep cliffs. 

A young man was crossing this desert, after doing his last delivery for the day. Marco Bodt was a skilled guy. He was quick with a gun, fast on a horse and incredibly intelligent. He also had the skill of manipulation and negotiation, which was useful when retrieving stolen goods. It was no wonder he was hired by so many people across the states. Hell, even sheriffs had hired him as a bounty hunter, where he’d earn money in return for some criminal’s life. 

He was a confident and smart, but he was also alone. Marco definitely liked it that way, though. He travelled alone, he got shit done alone. He never thought about working in a posse, or settling down somewhere. Having a wife and children had never struck him as a good idea, he would rather continue his work for others. If he ever hit big, and gained lots of money, he wouldn’t mind buying a house for himself though. 

That didn’t look as if it was going to be happening anytime soon. Whenever he earned money, it would need to be spent on food or clothing. He had a small camp set up, just north east from Couby. It was in a different state, a much colder one than where he liked to stay. Arilock was a snowy land with a range of mountains nearby. Marco had set up camp over there a couple years back, and stayed ever since. Over the years he had encountered wild and aggressive animals, he did plan to move.

The year was 1899, and young Marco Bodt was just trying to survive. 

It was just past noon when Marco walked into the town of Pleby. He was on foot because his horse was in the stables for rest, he had been working her too hard. His olive-brown eyes scanned the town as he walked down, seeing the citizens going around their everyday life. His eyes settled on a store, where a fine woman stood outside. She was wearing a light brown dress with a cream coloured apron on, with small mud coloured shoes on her feet. She had a young infant in her arms, rocking it back and forth. 

The infant seemed oblivious to everything else in the world, except from the mother. It yawned and waved it’s small hands at her, trying to grab onto her hair. It’s mind was blank, it knew nothing of what it’s future could be. They could be a good and honest towns person, or an evil and cold-blooded criminal. People would go mad nowadays to get their hands on some money, Marco doubted that anything would change in the next twenty years. 

That went for the rest of the town too. They all pretended that everything was okay, but refused to give anyone else a second glance. They kept their heads down, completely avoiding everyone as if there wasn’t a soul left in the world but them. Marco wondered if they even had souls, or if their thoughts and actions were controlled by the greed for money. The young Bodt thought he was different from others, he thought he was more alive and conscious than everyone else. He didn’t act like it, but deep down Marco felt there was something more to his life than anyone else’s. He just didn’t know what it was for. 

“Oi!” A voice made the raven haired man turn on his heel, assuming that the call that broke the eery silence was for him. He walked closer to the voice, recognising the man. “Did you get the letter from Mrs Henry?!” The elderly man asked quietly, seated on a chair outside of the salon. He had waited to ask until Marco came over, he didn’t want the whole town knowing his business. Marco nodded, subtly pulling out the envelope from his dark brown, tweed jacket pocket. He handed it over to the old man, studying his features for a moment. 

The man wore a cotton shirt, which was a white and green print. He had light brown suspenders on, which connected to simple beige coloured trousers. His hair was as white as the snow Marco walked across almost every day, in order to get to his camp. His eyes were dark, almost spooky looking. It was enough to send shivers down Marco’s spine. His face was pale and wrinkly, but he looked somewhat healthy. He had an oder of alcohol though, which made Marco’s nose scrunch in disgust. 

After a few seconds of the smelly man inspecting the letter, he gave a hum of approval and shoved it in his pocket. Marco winced a little at how carelessly he scrunched it up and put it in, it had been a long journey on foot. Marco stood patiently, waiting for his money. He didn’t bother to think or question what was the contents of the letters, he wasn’t paid enough for that. When the man realised that he still had to pay Marco, he grumbled and reached into his pocket. Marco gave him a polite but almost painful looking smile, reaching his hand out to take the cash. 

A couple notes as well as some coins landed in the slightly tanned, rough hand. A brow was raised when Marco felt coins be put into his hands, as if it was merely spare change. “Thank you.” Marco forced out, turning and taking a look at the notes. Eight dollars, wasn’t all that bad. He placed it in the breast pocket of his coat, then buttoned it for security. He began heading to the stables in which Maria was staying in, thankfully he had stabled her in Pleby so he was able to retrieve her after the delivery. 

Once he had gotten her from the stable, he took just a moment to admire how well she had been cleaned. Her chestnut coat was gleaming, her tail was no longer messy and her hooves weren’t clotted with mud. Having a bit of gratitude, Marco took the coins he received from the old man and approached the stable boy. After tipping the young lad, he had mounted his horse and was prepared to ride home. Before he even had the chance to leave Pleby, he was approached by a townsperson. 

“Are you Marco Bodt?” The man asked, keeping his voice down. He stared up at the freckled Bodt on the horse, almost expectingly. When he got a nod, he motioned Marco to come take a seat on a porch. There were two seats, a table with a lit candle. Marco stared at the flame curiously, wondering why a candle would be needed on a bright day like this. “Now, I know you’re a smart guy. I know you’re fast, too.” He said as he took a seat, simply jumping straight to the point. “There is a ring waiting for me, at the Kirstein household. They owe it to me, that’s all I can say. Others want it too, but it rightly belongs to me.” He explained, leaning back in the small wooden chair. Marco half-expected it to snap. 

Marco was intrigued though, so he took a seat. He had heard of the Kirstein family, a very rich family indeed. Good people though, he’d never had any trouble with them. “Now, the ring will be safe here in Pleby. But the way there could be... ehh. A little rocky.” He emphasised on the ‘eh’, it was obvious that he was under exaggerating. “I’m just saying, others want it too. It’s worth a hell of a lot of money. If you can bring it back here, safe and sound, I am willing to pay you a lot of money. But.” He hesitated, his eyes narrowing at Marco. “If you mess this up, things won’t end well for you.” He sternly stated, Marco getting the underlined threat. He didn’t want the money as much as he wanted his life, so he wasn’t about to run away with the jewellery. 

“No funny business with me, sir.” Marco replied honestly, his hands put up in a surrender. That seemed to be enough convincing for the townsperson, as he gave a grin and hit his fist down on the wooden table. “That’s what I like to hear! Now run along, we don’t have time to waste.”

The Kirstein house was located in Cohampholm, which was just east of where Marco lived. It wasn’t so much snowy and cold there, it was more a calm and average temperature. Marco had to ride through the state of Couby, enter Cohampholm and continue riding northeast until he arrived. The sun was beginning to set, which was frustrating as Marco disliked riding at night. It was still possible, but the lack of light made every bush and snap of a twig seem like a killer hiding. 

Despite his worries, Marco cantered up the grassy path towards the Kirstein household. The smell of wet grass and ponds infiltrated his nose, he could even taste the freshness of the air in his mouth. The tweed jacket covering the cotton, white shirt made Marco comfortable enough. He had a soft light-grey top on underneath the shirt, which had long sleeves. That kept him warm enough for the night. As he passed farms, his eyes did begin to wander. He studied the houses and the fields, wondering what it would be like to have a permanent home. The idea of having a comfortable bed and warm breakfast swayed Marco’s thoughts, but he didn’t think it’d be the life for him.

He continued the journey on Maria, riding up a small hill. He knew on the other side would be the Kirstein family, so he could get the ring and leave. He prayed there was no funny business, and by that he wished there would be no others there to steal the ring. His mind began to wander again, thinking about what he could do with the money for delivering the ring. He considered buying more equipment for his camp, perhaps a larger tent? He thought about the amazing meals he could get, or even spend a few nights at a nearby inn. 

Relaxing, Marco loosened the grips on the reins as they came over the short hill. Suddenly, the sound of screams filled his ears, which made him focus once more. He sat up in the saddle instantly, a hand over his belt. A revolver was located there, inside of his holster. As he rode over the top of the hill a blast of heat hit his face, a bright orange pile of flames roaring away. Exactly where the Kirstein household was supposed to be.


	2. Mutiny Below

The whole house was ablaze, lighting up the countryside so that almost everything could be seen. Marco’s jaw dropped in complete horror, realising that he was too late to retrieve the ring. It had definitely been stolen by outlaws, it couldn’t just be a coincident that it went on fire after multiple people wanted the ring. He knew how awful outlaws could be, so this wasn’t too surprising. 

The fact that he could still hear screams from inside the burning wood was horrifying though. He dismounted his horse and tied her reins to a tree, not too tightly incase she needed to escape a dangerous threat. As he got off Maria the screams stopped, signalling that anyone inside was definitely dead. The only thing that was heard now was the crackling of the deadly fire in front of him. 

After a few seconds of remorse for the Kirstein family and servants that lost their life, his thoughts drifted onto who could’ve done this. He needed to get his hands on the precious ring, or else the man who had hired him back in Couby wouldn’t be happy. He knew the man had his trust in Marco, as he was rather skilled, so he was determined to find out who did this. 

He didn’t spot anyone around the house, onlooking at the scene. The Kirstein household wasn’t surrounded by any other houses or farms, so there wasn’t neighbours. Marco was about to climb back on his horse and leave again, that was until he heard a large cry come from a few meters away. This alerted Marco, drawing his attention to the figure so close. 

It was a young chap, clearly in distress. He was crouched over, his fists bawling his shirt tightly as he wailed. It wasn’t that audible over the fire, but loud enough for Marco to hear it. He wouldn’t usually be that concerned over this, instead he’d trot on by, but this man could possibly tell him who took the ring and set the house on fire. 

Marco had more curtesy than to just go and ask this fellow who were the outlaws so he could go get the ring. He thought that the man would know multiple people wanted their hands on the ring, so he didn’t want to make it obvious that’s why he was here. He sighed deeply, approaching the man who was watching everything burn away right at his finger tips. 

“Hey.” The freckled man said softly, kneeling down next to the Kirstein. “Are you injured?” That was the first polite question that came to his head. Now that he was closer to this man he could clearly see his features. He had light blond coloured hair, darkish brown eyes, and and very pale skin. Marco doubted this guy ever worked a day in his life. 

It took a good few moments for the man to calm down enough to speak. The blond wiped his eyes, not making any glances towards his burning home. “Only my leg.” He breathed out, wiping his face once more to try seem more calm. Marco didn’t blame him for getting himself into such a state, he could understand this was his home and his family. He wasn’t going to frown upon the other male simply for grieving. “I can barely walk.” His voice murmured out, still shaky and quiet. 

A sigh escaped the lips of Marco, knowing he just couldn’t leave this man out in the dark. “Do you have somewhere you can go?” He questioned, wondering if there was a relative or friends that the Kirstein could stay at. He wouldn’t mind offering some help to the poor man, as long as he got some information in return. 

“No, don’t have anywhere to go.” The blond grumbled as he pushed himself onto his feet. He relaxed one of his legs, not putting much pressure on it of fear it could cause him pain. No blood could be seen, it was too dark. A large piece of wood had landed on top of his leg, seriously damaging it. The Kirstein winced from the pain at every step, ignoring it as he approached Marco. He wasn’t even thinking properly, everything happened so fast that his brain hadn’t let it sink in. He still looked like he was in shock, sweat dripping down his face and his legs trembling slightly. 

“Have no money for a hotel either.” He admitted, mumbling the words as his eyes focused on the ground. The blond was considering asking to go with the male, thinking he could have a house. Marco looked wealthy and healthy enough to own some land, the male just assumed this. He wasn’t thinking clearly and had no other ideas on what to do in the situation, except follow the stranger. He would never usually do this, but right now he was desperate. 

Marco felt as if the Kirstein was hinting at wanting to go with him, but he couldn’t be sure. The freckled man didn’t have others staying at his camp, he always lived there alone. He didn’t know if he liked the idea of sharing the location of his camp, he was rather secretive about it. Mostly in fear of being shot during the night, he knew a lot of outlaws had it out for him. So he kept quiet about its location. 

After a minute of so of consideration, Marco sighed. “Listen, I’ve got a camp not far from here. You can stay the night, then we will find you a place to stay tomorrow. That alright?” He asked, surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth. He’d never had others at the camp, he couldn’t believe he was asking this random guy he hadn’t met before. If he could get information on who the thieves were, Marco was sure that the Kirstein staying would be beneficial. 

When a nod of agreement was seen, Marco began walking up the small, grassy hill he had recently came down. “I’ll get my horse, I don’t mind walking.” The freckled man offered, surrendering his horse for the night so the injured guy could be comfortable. He approached Maria, taking the American Quarter Horse back towards the Kirstein on the hill. He felt cautious over the dangerous fire, but the place was a mere heep now. There was almost nothing left to burn. 

It took a few seconds for the blond to get onto his feet, his hands gripping onto the saddle. He didn’t have the effort to calm the horse, so he tried to quickly mount. His hands were shaking and his thoughts were clouded, so it was hard. Marco held her reins still as he also gave the stranger a hand up, holding the stirrup at the other side of the saddle down so the whole saddle wouldn’t slip. Once Marco was sure the blond was comfortably on, they immediately headed away. 

Marco’s camp was a few minutes away, since they were walking he thought it’d take about an hour. He escorted the horse and Kirstein along the road by foot, plodding along at the side of Maria. He learned quite a bit about the blond from the ride over. The guy was called Jean, he was eighteen, and he was a bit of an asshole. Marco didn’t blame him or get annoyed though, he understood how upset and devastated that Jean was. How damn traumatised he was from the most recent event. 

He didn’t cry that much, which surprised Marco. He could tell all those tears and emotions were being held inside though, being held captive and not allowed to be expressed. What pissed Marco off was that the male did not bring up a single clue about who could’ve started the fire. He didn’t give him any information, not on the fire started or even what time it happened. The male assumed Jean’s family was dead, he thought maybe all of them were. Since Jean didn’t have any family to stay with, it made Marco think they all passed away while in the burning building.

It was night now, Marco guessed about midnight. Jean Kirstein wasn’t thinking as much as Marco was, he just sat limp on the horse. His head was hung, his hazel eyes just staring at the ground. He didn’t want to look pitiful, but he was so exhausted that he couldn’t push himself to pretend to be alright. He barely spoke, his hands just fidgeting with Maria’s mane. 

When they finally arrived at Marco’s camp, Jean looked unsatisfied. “You honestly live here?” He asked, sounding rather rude as he carefully dismounted the horse. There was a tent, which looked like more a few sheets all hung up in a triangular pyramid shape to Jean. There was a fire pit, which nothing burned. Nearby was a table which included a couple chairs, a can of beans and a lantern. Underneath the table was a large box, Jean assumed it was the freckled’s personal belongings. 

The Kirstein shivered as he limped into the camp, letting Marco go and tie Maria to a nearby fence. The wind was freezing cold, it made his skin sting. The male’s feet were numb, as well as his pale fingers. His cheeks and nose were red, clearly being affected by the change of climate. There was a lot of frost nearby, he was not used to this. Jean was used to sleeping in a large and grand bedroom, with a king-sized bed, warm water and a roof over his head. 

“I can taste the cold in my mouth.” He muttered, complaining a lot for a guy who was offered a place to sleep from a total stranger. He walked over to the table and grabbed a chair, placing it close to the fire. He then took a seat, his teeth chattering as he folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to stay warm. He wasn’t wearing a lot of warm clothes, as obviously Jean wasn’t prepared for the cold and harsh weather. He had his simple cotton shirt on, as well as a beige pair of trousers. 

Ignoring the very snobby complaints, Marco wandered into his camp and stood a few feet away from Jean. He was just making himself comfortable, moving the furniture around where he liked. It was too late for Marco to feel annoyed, he was tired. “Want me to take a look at your leg? See it’s alright?” He asked, motioning to Jean’s injured limb. He was still antsy about finding out who took the ring, Jean wasn’t giving him any hints. He knew he’d be in some trouble if he didn’t get ahold of the ring, just like he promised the man back at Pleby. 

It frustrated Marco that he didn’t even know the man’s name, and here he was trying to retrieve a stolen good from cold-hearted murderers for the stranger. As long as he got good money from it, Marco would risk chasing after these people. He’d plan how he’d steal it back later, for now he just needed some type of description of them. Jean seemed to be the only one who could know. 

Jean nodded slowly in return, seeming a bit unsure whether or not he wanted Marco to look at his already sore leg. Who knows, maybe he’d break Jean’s ankle so he couldn’t run and then kill him. Or torture him to get information from him. After what happened tonight, Jean suddenly felt extremely cautious of other people. For all he knew, Marco could be with the guys who started the fire. 

Hesitantly, the blond stretched his leg out so Marco was able to take a look at the wounds. It still felt very sore, especially now that the adrenaline from earlier was gone. As Marco knelt down, the other reminded him of a young deer. All shy and wobbly, and if he moved too fast maybe Jean would sprint away. So he was careful, very gentle when he rolled up the other’s trouser leg. He grimaced at the sight of his leg, all bruised and bloody. 

He mumbled under his leg, something along the lines of muddled up curse words. “I guess I could wrap it.” Marco concluded, unsure what else to do. He didn’t have much medical knowledge, so he was rather confused. “If it’s still painful in a day or so, you should go to the doctor. There are a few good ones in south Arilock.” He would probably need to write the location down for Jean, he doubted the other had left his little house in Cohampholm, the east side of the state. 

The male rose, fetching the box that Jean spotted earlier. After rummaging through it for a second, he returned to the fireplace with a bandage. “I’m not good at this sorta stuff.” Marco warned, kneeling down and beginning to slowly wrap the bandage around the injured area. The blond didn’t say much in return, instead he just hummed. The atmosphere around them was cold and awkward, Marco almost felt uncomfortable in his own camp. He wasn’t used to having a companion there, even if it was only temporary. 

“There.” Marco finally revealed, looking at the poorly wrapped bandage. Jean winced a few times while he was wrapping it, so he made it rather loose after that. “You can go make yourself comfortable in the tent, I guess. I’ll go untack Maria.” He instructed, sauntering towards his horse. He stopped in his track when he heard a rather displeased voice reply to him. 

Jean raised a brow, turning on the chair to face the other. “Seriously, I have to sleep in there?” He asked, sounding rather disgusted at the idea. He didn’t want to sleep around a few dirty sheets they called a tent. He didn’t want to sleep so close to an other person, never mind a stranger. It felt like the night was only going to get worse for him. 

The raven gritted his teeth in anger, whipping his head round to look at Jean. “If you don’t like it, take a damn hike.” He snapped in annoyance, spitting at the ground right after as a ‘damn you’. When that shut the Kirstein up, he returned to his quest of taking off Maria’s tack. He never usually felt so irritated, but he didn’t like this posh snob talking down to his home. Marco knew it was shit, he didn’t like others saying it though. Especially when he was helping them out. 

After being shut up, Jean sighed and stood up again. He stumbled towards the tent, not even daring to touch the sheets. He walked inside, seeing a neat couple of sheets piled together and a pillow which looked like Marco’s bed. There was also a pile of clothing, which he assumed were Marco’s. Thankfully, there was one big sheet pegged to the ground. So at least Jean wasn’t sitting on the dirty grass. He steadily sat down, rolling his trouser leg back down and kicking his boots off. He placed them at the side of the tent and waited awkwardly, hoping that the other had a spare blanket. 

As the minutes went by, the night got even colder. Jean heard the footsteps outside, but no one was getting inside the tent. Eventually the blond gave up waiting and snatched one of the blankets from Marco’s ‘bed’. He wrapped the thick fabric around him, shuddering as he tried to cover every inch of his body from the neck down. It was getting so cold that Jean assumed he’d freeze to death, although that was a little dramatic. He lay back onto the ground, staring up at the centre of the ceiling as he waited. 

After a while, Marco finally entered the tent. He got inside and sat himself down, his brow arching when he saw Jean taking his covers and resting in them. He scoffed, taking his boots off. He didn’t make a huge deal over Jean literally taking things from his bed, he knew that it was cold. He took a spare blanket he had next to his clothes and placed it on his bed, as well as grabbing a jacket. 

“Here, use this as a pillow.” Marco suggested, folding the jacket up and handing it over to the burrito-looking male. “You’ll warm up soon.” He added, trying to assure Jean that it wouldn’t be cold for long. He then lay on his bed when Jean used the coat and settled down too. He closed his eyes over, not wasting any time to sleep. He didn’t want to end up in a blether with Jean, or having to hear him complain more. 

If it weren’t for the fact that Jean had practically lost his whole family tonight, Marco would’ve tossed him out in a heartbeat.


	3. Mutiny Below

It was a different scenery that awoke Jean Kirstein. The usual harsh knock on his wooden door was Kirstein’s alarm, but this time there was no servant to wake him from his chambers. There wasn’t even a bedroom, he was sleeping in a make-shift tent. Instead, the noise was birds chirping. He could hear the soft noise of a flowing river nearby, completing the scene of the countryside. 

Eyes began to flicker open, almost hesitant to wake up to this new world. It was significantly colder, the blankets did their job well enough though. A pale hand rose to wipe the sleep from under his eyes as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He heard the soft snores of someone next to him, which startled him a lot. Jean wasn’t used to sleeping in the same room as someone, never mind a couple feet away. Marco Bodt seemed sound asleep, which put the blond’s mind to ease. 

Silently, the awake male crawled his way out of the tent to get some fresh air. As he left the tent he felt a harsh breeze hit him, cold air shooting down the back of his collar and making his spine shiver. He drew a shaky breath as he looked around the small camp, shocked at the foreign surroundings in which he woke up. His mind felt clouded, nothing felt real right now. The sudden loss of his whole life had sent his mind into an ongoing storm, halting any sense of normality for him. 

Within seconds Jean had slumped back onto a wooden, creaky chair. He held his face in his cold hands, groaning as he tried to grasp onto any idea of reality. He was praying this was all just a horrid dream, he’d had many a dream before. The realisation and reassurance he’d feel when he woke up and everything was okay, he was missing that feeling more than anything. He thought about his parents, his sister, hell even the servants crossed his mind. 

The fact that he would never get to see his family again began to set inside his mind, but at the same time it made him upset and angry. He wanted to know who these men where, why they would do such a thing. He knew the fire was no accident, he saw who they were. They probably thought he was dead, for all they cared about was the ring. That damned ring, Jean would’ve gave a million of those things away if it were to protect his family. 

Part of Jean longed to go back home, to see if they really were dead. He knew it would be stupid to have hope when he watched and heard his family die, but a small piece of him wanted to make sure. What if they somehow survived? What if it was all a hoax? What if it was a dream? He wanted to see for sure if they were really dead. 

After a while he rose from the chair, his arms wrapped around himself to protect him from the cold. It was a different climate here in Arilock, especially being near the mountains. Instead of stepping on soft grass, Jean was standing on frost and dirt. He needed to plan where to go from here, what would he do? He was limited on where he could go. He had a couple family friends, none that he felt close enough to go to in a time like this. He couldn’t stay with this stranger though, he hated feeling like a trespasser. Perhaps he could hang around until he found a job, then try get his life back on track.

The future looked bleak for the Kirstein, he didn’t know what to do now. He often thought about being a professor, receiving good lessons in his English and teaching the most wealthiest of families. That didn’t seem like it would work now, there was so much he needed to learn. He doubted that Marco had any books or poetry laying around anyway, that didn’t seem to be the freckled man’s lifestyle. 

A noise startled Jean, which came from just outside the small camp. He flinched, his head whipping around to stare at the trespasser. He didn’t have any weapons on him, which made him feel nervous. When his eyes set upon the chestnut mare, he released sigh of relief. He stumbled over to where the horse was hitched, still limping from yesterday as his leg hurt. It felt like his shin had been shattered, but he tried to put up with the pain for his own pride. He didn’t need anyone to see him crying over a sore leg when his whole family had just been murdered. 

Without dragging on the thought anymore, he approached the mare and reached a cold hand out to her muzzle. She seemed cautious at first, but then happily rested her nose into the young lad’s hand. She was a rather happy and healthy horse, she had enough rope to lay down or have a wander. It was weak enough so if she needed to escape, for whatever reason, the rope could snap easily. But it was also just strong enough to keep her from breaking it by accident. 

“There there.” The hoarse, croaky voice of Jean assured. Once he thought the mare was calm enough, he reached over to stroke Maria’s neck. He did like animals, especially horses. When they were calm, he felt like he could be calm too. If they weren’t scared of anything, then why should Jean be?

An other voice made Jean jump almost ten feet in the air. This voice was deeper, much more rough than Jean’s. Although there was a certain melodic tone to it, appealing and husky. It sent shivers down the blond’s back, making him turn around almost slowly. Like a dear in the headlights. 

“Making yourself at home?” The handsome voice asked, approaching the Kirstein and Maria. He sounded rather sarcastic, seeing as Jean was walking around and petting his horse. He was unsure how to deal with guests, he’d never really had them before. He reached his hand onto Maria’s nose, his eyes not leaving Jean. 

At first, Jean didn’t know how to reply to this. He wasn’t used to feeling so unwelcome somewhere, it was rather awkward. He didn’t know if he was supposed to leave or not, he didn’t want to. Not yet, not when he was so clueless and he was so alone. He mumbled an apology, pulling his hand away from Maria. He stood back, crossing his arms over his chest to protect him from the cold. Marco didn’t seem so bothered by him, yet again he hadn’t had that long to wake up. 

Furrowing his eyes, Marco studied the cold man standing at his camp. He recognised that the used-to-be-wealthy Kirstein had probably never slept outside before, or even be outside this long. The silence remained for a few long seconds, before the husky voice finally spoke up. “Would you like a sweater?” Marco asked, his face relaxing into a neutral expression now. He couldn’t be too harsh on the male, he needed some information on the bandits. He knew only Jean could grant him this information, for now. He wasn’t going back to Pleby empty-handed, that could be a death wish. 

Even though he wouldn’t usually borrow other people’s clothes, Jean wasn’t going to pass the opportunity. When Jean finally nodded, not speaking, Marco turned to go and find a sweater to give. A simple cotton shirt was not going to be enough to keep the Kirstein warm, especially in this climate. When Marco returned with a grey sweater, Jean didn’t waste time to pull it on over his own clothes. It was a bit big for him, but he wasn’t going to complain considering how cold it was. 

The sweater gave off a certain smell, like alcohol and a sweet meadow sort of scent. It must of been whatever was used to clean his clothes with. It was soft to touch, Jean felt himself brushing his hand over the sleeve subtly a few times. “Thanks.” He mumbled under his breath, nodding at Marco before walking back to the camp’s chairs. Neither of them seemed to be bringing up whether Jean was to leave or not, so he stayed quiet for now. 

“I’ve to help an old friend soon, their house isn’t far from here.” Marco stated blankly, following Jean’s footsteps across to the wooden furniture. “You’re welcome to join me, you can ride Maria until we arrive at the house. Then we’ll be delivering using the Springer’s wagon.” He added, giving Jean the opportunity to come with him instead of being alone at the camp. He also knew that the blond had an injured leg, so he’d let Jean ride Maria and he could walk. Their cabin was at the bottom of Aricot Mountain, so it wasn’t far to go. 

Not wanting to be alone, Jean agreed to helping with a delivery. He’d rather not stay at the camp by himself, scared of the possibility of bears or wolves. So he watched as Marco tacked up his mare, pottering around the camp as he got a good look at everything. The place was surrounded by trees, but he heard the sound of a river nearby. It was a poor reminder that he was hungry, he doubted that Marco would have a fancy meal like what he was used to. He didn’t have any money on him either, so he didn’t have the chance to buy food for himself. 

Ignoring his stomach, Jean mounted on Maria. He felt rather pathetic having to ride the horse whereas Marco had to walk beside him. It was rather awkward, he wasn’t sure what he thought of Marco. He knew that the raven was his age, but they were so different. He didn’t know how to survive out here, he wasn’t used to it at all and it made a certain anxiety build within him. Whereas Marco looked so calm and collected, as if the world was his own. 

The ride to the cabin wasn’t so bad, it gave Jean the opportunity to have a good look at his surroundings. It was someplace new, somewhere the Kirstein hadn’t visited before. The amount of trees, the frost that was painted across the dirt trail in a thin layer, dull and cold. He barely saw the sun, as it was hooded by the leaves that were beginning to darken into an orange colour. It was beautiful, he had to admit. 

Marco didn’t talk much, he was focusing on the task at hand. He had his hand-gun in his holster, along with a rifle across his back. He believed in safe over sorry, it had been many a time he’d been attacked. He wasn’t about to take any chances by coming unarmed, he knew there was a lot of people out to get him. Especially the men from last night, they might of known someone was sent to retrieve the ring. Which brought him to his next thought...

“So, last night. Did y-“ Marco started strong, about to ask for at least some details about the murderers. He was cut off by a cold and harsh voice, clearly not happy. “Don’t wanna talk about it.” Jean muttered, glaring at Marco as if to challenge him to continue. It was childish, in Marco’s eyes. He thought that Jean should’ve known he was only wanted for information, but Marco wasn’t getting anywhere with it. He didn’t want to give up yet, for now he considered asking the Springers if they knew anything. 

It felt as if his blood was boiling, from not getting his question answered. Marco had offered this man a place to sleep, why wouldn’t he give in and finally say who the killers were. He glanced up at Jean, who just seemed to be in a daze. Not thinking, or answering questions, or even looking around. He seemed to have enough trust in Maria that she wouldn’t run off. 

A cabin was isolated at the bottom of the mountain, looking rather well kept. There wasn’t much of a garden, the grass was covered in a thick layer of frost, but the wooden walls seemed clean and cosy. There was a porch outside the door, small but nice. There was a table and two chairs on it, a dark brown colour. There was smoke rising from the chimney, indicating there was a warm fire inside. The roof was made of thin, concrete slabs. The cabin was built perfectly to keep all the warmth inside. There was a smaller building at the back of the house, with a opening at the front of the door. A white, equine head could be seen inside, eating some hay. 

Outside the cabin was parked an average sized wagon, with a lot of parcels packed up inside. There was a wooden seat which had a soft material cushioned over the top of it, making it more comfortable. Jean took a minute to have a look at his surroundings. It was much colder here than Marco’s camp, he didn’t think this sweater was doing him any good here. He didn’t complain about it and just carefully dismounted from the horse. 

As his feet hit the ground, the cabin door swung open. A loud voice boomed from inside, footsteps approaching. “Marco! Finally.” A feminine voice hollered as she walked outside. The woman instantly approached Marco, playfully punching him in the shoulder. “Where have you been?! That delivery to Pleby couldn’t have taken that long!” She whined, not even acknowledging Jean at first. “Well, come inside. Me and Connie have spent time making the soup! I’m making him help out with the cooking, I didn’t marry a man to have him sit on his a-“

“Who’s that?” A voice interrupted, stepping down from the porch. He looked cautious, his eyes not leaving the Kirstein who was standing next to the horse. This man had short, grey hair. Jean found it weird, considering how young he looked. It wasn’t common to see anyone with hair so white who looked so young. He didn’t sound old, either. 

“That’s Jean Kirstein.” Marco introduced, shaking the female’s questions off. “He’s sticking with me for a little while.” He added, emphasising the word little. That seemed to shock the male Springer, making his jaw drop. Marco expected him to be surprised, he’d known Connie for almost all his life and not once had he ever did anything with an other person. 

Still not content, Connie approached the blonde in curiosity. “Kirstein, huh? What on Earth’s he doing with you?” He interrogated, turning his head to Marco. Instead of the freckled answering the question, Jean took it upon himself to answer. “Couldn’t stay at home, so I’m living at his camp for now.” Jean declared, ignoring the stare, not subtle enough, from Marco. He understood that Marco wanted to find out who these bandits were, just because he wanted that ring that Jean thought was worthless and stupid. He didn’t think it costed more than his family, his home. Everything he ever had. 

“Well, strike me surprised!” Connie announced, along with a laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day Marco Bodt was trekking around with a friend.” He teased, turning around and heading back inside. “Well, as Sasha has probably already told you. We have some soup made, so make yourselves comfy before you go on your journey.” He offered, beckoning the three inside with his hand. 

The Kirstein’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Hold on, how long is this journey going to be?”


	4. Mutiny Below

“Six hours?!”

Jean was currently seated in front of a warm fire, which he was grateful for. There was a warm bowl of soup in his hands, heating them up from the cold weather outside. He sat on an armed chair in front of Marco, Connie and Sasha who were on a sofa. He could feel the warm air on his boots, it didn’t help his rising temper though. 

“We’re supposed to sit on a tiny wagon for six fuckin’ hours?!” He asked in surprise, as if it was the hardest task in the world. Marco didn’t seem phased by the news, neither did the two Springers. He never meant to be rude, or curse, but these were very different circumstances than what Jean was used to. “I- can’t you pay someone to do it?” He continued, genuinely confused why him and Marco would have to go for so long in a wagon. 

Marco narrowed his eyes at the blond, shaking his head. “That’s exactly what they’re doing. Now you can be on your way or shut up, and get on with it.” He muttered, taking a spoonful of the soup in his mouth. It was nice, he appreciated being able to eat before leaving for the journey. “We get to Taltbrook, go south into Cruborn. Deliver the meat and then return. It’s only three hours each way.” Marco added, trying to persuade the male that it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Never having done much work in his life, this came as a shock to Jean. He didn’t say anymore, just shaking his head in disapproval and enjoying his soup. It was tasty, it reminded him of the food he had back home. He thought that the Springers seemed nice enough, although there was something almost scary about them. The girl, Sasha, seemed friendly but Connie didn’t seem happy with him. 

Speaking of, Connie interrupted his train of thought with a question. “Can I speak to you outside?” He asked, talking specifically to Marco. The latter nodded and stood from the couch, wondering what Connie wanted. He assumed it was more questions about Jean, which he found reasonable. He did come out of no where, and Marco didn’t have many “friends”. 

As the two friends stepped outside, Connie closed the door for a bit of privacy. “Why are you with him?” He whispered, wanting a real answer instead of the bullshit that Marco told him before he came inside. He knew Marco wouldn’t let some stranger hang around with him, especially someone rich and someone they’d both consider a snob. 

With a sigh, Marco began to explain. 

He remembered the heat, the fire. The screams and the cries, and the disgusting smell that came from the fire. It was brutal, a killer. Marco couldn’t believe that, just maybe, if he got there earlier then it wouldn’t of ended up like this. Jean wouldn’t have lost his family, that he’d of got the ring and been on his way. If he had rode Maria that bit faster, if he had got to Pleby an hour earlier. It was going to be a vicious war, he was going to need to get this damn ring. 

He remembered how upset Jean was at first, when he wasn’t masking his emotions. He remembered how he cried and screamed and gripped at his shirt. The memory made Marco’s heart hurt, he really did pity what happened. He couldn’t dwell on it so much that it distracts him from his final mission, but he did feel bad for the other boy. 

Marco also remembered the deal he had with the man back in Pleby, how he needed to get his greedy hands on this ring. When discussing it with Connie, his grey haired friend knew exactly who Marco was talking about. The man went by the name Fritz, but that is all Connie knew about him. And Connie knew a lot about everyone. 

Meanwhile, Jean was inside with Sasha Springer. She acted sweet towards the Kirstein, smiling at him and being curious about his life. “So how long do you plan to spend with Marco?” She asked, her brows furrowing as she finished her soup and stood from the sofa. The kitchen was in the same room so she lunged over, putting her bowl and spoon in the sink. She continued to listen to the blond’s answer, being able to multitask. 

“Oh, y’know. Maybe a couple days.” Jean replied after a moment, sounding unsure. He stared at the fire as his body was at a fine temperature now, he didn’t want to leave. Sasha came back to sit down, choosing the side of the sofa closest to Jean. She grabbed a large, white blanket which hung from the back of the sofa and lay it over her lap, warming up a bit more. “I’ve never seen Marco live with someone else, he must really like you.” She teased with a smirk, pulling her legs up onto the sofa. She wore a pinkish orange coloured shirt and a pair of denim jeans, not what Jean expected girls to wear. She also had an apron on, which was brown and clean. 

Knowing that wasn’t the reason he was staying with Marco, Jean sighed. “Nah. He just wants information.” He mumbled, glancing away from Sasha. Clearly he didn’t want to discuss it anymore, and just watched the flame flicker. Thinking how easy it would be for a piece of wood from the fireplace to fall out, and ruin an other family. To ruin someone else’s life forever. 

Now, Sasha knew well enough not to press into personal matters if he didn’t want to talk about them. “I’ll tell you what.” She paused, pointing a knowing finger at Jean. “I’ll spare you and Marco a piece of cake for the journey you’ll be on.” She offered, pulling a leg up to her chest as she smiled, wrapping her arms around the folded leg. She sat comfortably on her sofa, watching a small small smile appear on Jean’s lips. 

It did sound nice, being able to have a delicious treat. Jean was definitely used to it though, so this was no luxury. “Thank you, that sounds nice.” The blond replied, imagining that something so tiny and simple to him would actually cheer him up. 

Heavy footsteps were heard as they entered the cabin, followed by slightly lighter thuds. Marco entered the home once more, grabbing his cowboy hat and placing it carefully on his head. “Thank you for the soup Sash, but we better get heading.” Marco concluded, his olive eyes staring at Jean. As if telling him to get up, without his mouth even moving a muscle. Without much of an argument, Marco’s gaze had worked as Jean contently stood up and headed over to the door. “Yeah, thanks.” He added politely, smiling at the two. 

Quickly remembering, Sasha darted over to the kitchen and began to wrap something in a thin cloth. “Don’t forget your cake.” The brunette called, as if she was talking to a young child about to leave before desert. She waltzed back over to Jean, placing the wrapped cake in his hands. “Be safe, have a loaded gun at all times, come straight back.” She ordered, looking at Marco from the corner of her eye. 

The freckled raven had remembered that, as before Jean knew it he was sat upon a cold, wooden wagon with a rifle in his lap. Marco held the leather reins in his rather large, pale hands. They were a lot different from Jean’s, when he began to compare them in his head. Jean’s seemed cleaner, healthier. Whereas the other’s were rougher and drier, more working hands. They held the reins carefully, not enough to hurt the bit inside the horse’s mouth but enough to still have control. 

Realising that he’d be staying in this position for a while, Jean leaned back and tried to relax. “So, you just sit here for hours as you get pulled along in this thing?” The Kirstein’s voice asked curiously, wondering how Marco did this so often. His hazel eyes settled on the white horse that pulled the wagon along, it was a beautiful and majestic looking creature. It’s large, clumsy feet made thumping noises as it’s hooves hit the frosty ground. It was rhythmic and almost calming.

“Yep, pretty much. Why, what do you usually do?” Marco fired back, glancing at Jean from the corner of his eye for a split second. For the most part, the loner’s eyes kept steady on the road. As if something could jump out at him at any moment. He felt assured knowing he could grab his rifle from the nosey passenger at any given moment. He didn’t know what to expect when Jean answered his question, he wasn’t sure what such a posh boy would do all day. 

The blond’s mind began to picture what he would do on a normal day. He sat back on the wagon, his soft hands tapping off the barrel out of the gun in boredom. “Let’s see... I’d probably wake up to breakfast first. Read some books, have my lessons at lunch, maybe do some target practise.” He paused, a faint smile on his lips as he’d remember what normality was to him. “I’d have a nice bath ran, a dinner made, warm clothes.” He dreamed out loud, subconsciously pulling Marco’s sweater sleeves over his hands to keep himself warmer. 

“Were you happy?”

This question caught Jean off guard, and he stared at Marco as if he’d seen a ghost. The raven quickly added to his question, becoming slightly defensive. “I mean, it sounds amazing.” He continued politely, focusing on the pathway ahead. “I just don’t think I could let people look after me like that.” He quietly murmured, not wanting Jean to get aggressive or angry. 

There was a cold silence, colder than the frost that was gathered on the dull green grass around them. Jean chewed his pristine teeth down into his cheek, the thick awkwardness being felt between the two. Honestly, Jean felt kind of embarrassed. Here was a man who made his own living, who still seemed confident and healthy without needing servants or hot food. He couldn’t imagine living like Marco did, but he could admire him for it. 

Part of Jean wanted to press for more questions, to find out more about this mysterious man who had decided to help him out. It wasn’t hard to guess why Marco wanted him around, but he felt intrigued by the stranger. He had never really met someone like Marco, someone so independent and just different. There was something about the mystery man that was seeming to drag Jean in further, making him ask more questions. 

He didn’t. He sat quietly, looking around at all of the beautiful scenery. As the minutes turned to hours, the snow began to fade and was replaced by bright green grass. It got less cold, which was amazing for Jean. He no longer felt how he did back in the west of Arilock, where the cold bit him in the nose. Things were calm, things were peaceful. For a moment. 

Without warning, a loud gunshot was heard nearby. As Jean darted down, avoiding the deadly bullet, Marco snatched the rifle from Jean’s lap and began to shoot. Jean’s heart was now like the rhythm of the hooves, beating quick and loudly. He felt the horse fire off, launching itself in a hurry to get away from the fatal killer. 

“Shi- fuck.” Marco muttered to himself, cursing as he cocked the gun and began to shoot. After two bullets, the male watched as a body collapsed onto the dirt path. The older looking, dressed in black man was laying lifeless on the ground, a small handgun at his side. This confused Marco, making him turn back around. He didn’t settle, not for a second. His olive eyes bolted around for any sign of movement, his gun still held tightly. “Grab the reins.” He ordered, not sparing Jean even a glance. 

As his brows knitted together in fright, Jean turned and grabbed the reins so he could control the horse. His chest was rising up and down rapidly, a genuinely scared look on his face. When he attempted not to hyperventilate, he tried to ask Marco questions. “W-What the hell was that?!” He splattered out, wondering why on Earth someone would attack the wagon, and why on Earth Marco looked as calm as he did. 

In the contrast to the panicking young lad, Marco sat back with an exhausted sigh. “Hey, it’s fine.” He tried to reassure, not wanting Jean to end up in a huge panic. “It happens sometimes. People are desperate for money, revenge, bullshit like that.” He explained calmly, his olive eyes glancing around once more before he was able to relax. With a slightly shaky hand, he handed the deadly weapon back into Jean’s even shakier hands.

The blood was still gushing through Jean’s veins in fright, but the soft words from Marco made him feel oddly better about the whole situation. Made him feel rather safer. “Alright...” He mumbled suspiciously, still unsure if he could completely trust Marco’s sugar coated words. Despite being fed the treat of comfort, forcing out the sour words of content made him feel sick. Was everything really okay? Would they be attacked again? The questions running through Jean’s mind were enough to keep him occupied for the next few hours. 

As the small wagon finally arrived, a deep sigh of relief came from Marco. The place where they were was busy, busier than usual. The populated streets had crowds of people hustling around, keeping their hats and heads down in an attempt to avoid conversation with each other. On the other hand, there was the more bright and cheerful people who were walking and gossiping loudly with each other. Marco winced at every hearty laugh, his face remaining solemn as he rode down the stone street. 

The whole place stunk of cheap whisky and tobacco, which made Jean’s face scrunch up in disgust. The freckled man did pick up on this, a small smirk breaking his expressionless face as he questioned the rich man. “Never been here before?” He queried, a dark brow arched in curiosity. It would not have surprised him if Jean hadn’t left his posh, wealthy household back in Arilock. Marco had to speak up, as everyone around was too noisy for his liking. 

Pausing, Jean gave the other a look of dismay. “Of course. I just don’t get how they can all get drunk at this time of the day.” He pointed out, noting how the sun was only half way into the sky. He had visited Cruborn before, but not on a weekend where people weren’t working so much. Well, the middle class people. He glimpsed at every person who walked past, realising that almost everyone was wearing the exact same clothes. A dark coat, a nice white shirt, and a belled top hat. 

“Eh, isn’t this your kinda people?” Marco countered, thinking that this would be the type of place where Jean would visit. He could definitely picture the blond in one of those fancy suits, with a big, stupid hat on his head. Jean thought otherwise, as he scoffed and shook his head. He looked down at his own clothes, wishing he could change from the clothes he was wearing since yesterday. The idea of wearing unwashed clothes made him shuffle around uncomfortably, used to having clean clothes. 

His hands were still shaky from earlier, when the wagon had been attacked. He hadn’t been able to properly settle down, especially since they got into the city. He felt more unsafe now, even though Marco was here. He thought Marco could fight off one or two people, but not a whole city. Now, Jean knew the chances of getting attacked in broad daylight. It was unlikely. This didn’t stop the anxiety swelling up inside him, ready to pop at any given moment. 

Until something caught his eye. 

A vast, bright aegean colour that was painted over the landscape. It was a work of art, as if someone had picked up a brush and delicately spread it below the sky. Different colours of blue and green swirled around, and the small tides that were waving into the shore. Jean’s jaw had slacked, expressing the shock and admiration he felt looking out at the ocean. It was something he didn’t get to see that often, especially this far into the city. 

Noticing the shock, a even bigger smirk emerged from Marco’s face. “Beautiful, ain’t it?” He questioned, the small nod from Jean confirming his answer. “Tell ya what. You go down and have a look at that water, I’ll talk to the butcher. Deal?” He proposed, wanting some time to himself and letting Jean go stand by the water. 

“Deal.” The blond replied, his fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of the sweater he’d been given. Part of him felt nervous about going out alone, but he trusted that things would be fine. It could’ve been a bad idea to trust someone like Marco, but he did it anyway. 

He needed to clear his head. He had so many things on his mind, it felt like there was an endless storm of butterflies in his stomach. He never usually felt so stressed and so overwhelmed, but in the past day so much had happened. Just twenty-four hours ago he was sitting in the study, reading up on a literature book. Now here he was, roughing it with some random and not a dime to his name. 

Once the wagon had finally reached its destination, the passengers hopped out and parted ways. Marco heading towards a table with bloody meat on it, and Jean heading towards the sea. He crossed over a set of tram tracks and walked onto the beach, which isn’t what you’d expect. Instead of his boots landing on soft, yellow sand it stepped onto rocks that spread across the shore for miles. He could taste the sour and unpleasant salt water in his mouth, but for Jean that made it all the better. 

He was alone. This surprised him, he thought many more people would be interested in such a beautiful sight. He didn’t mind, it meant he could greedily keep all the beach to himself. He began to approach the water, a calm expression on his face. He was thinking of his family, how dearly he missed them. How that they were actually gone, and that they’d never come back. He wanted to find who was at the bottom of this and kill them, to take away the life they took from him. 

His legs ached from sitting in a wagon for so long, but he knew this wouldn’t be the last of it. Things were going to be so difficult from now on, he knew it would only be a matter of time before Marco kicked him out. He didn’t have any clothes, any money, he didn’t have anywhere to go. Of course he had friends, but he knew that they would struggle with one more person to look after. He couldn’t burden them like that, he also knew if he even tried to live with them they’d end up killing each other. 

He thought about Marco now, sitting down on a large rock. His eyes scanned this gorgeous horizon, the only thing he could picture now was a certain freckled face. How this man had taken him in, who had given him a place to sleep. How when they were being shot at, Marco had the courage to kill. How, despite unsafe Jean felt, he also felt safe. He began to wonder if Marco would shoot for him, if a gun was aimed at Jean’s head. 

He thought about his eyes, which reminded him of a dark emerald pair of earrings his sister once owned. He thought about his lips, how sometimes they’d curl into a smirk whenever he found something amusing. His voice, how it sounded so much tougher and deep. Whereas Jean spoke more properly. How his hands looked so worn out, yet so in control when shooting that rifle or clutching the reins. He thought about Marco a lot during his time at the beach, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be kicked out just yet.


	5. Mutiny Below

A few, long hours had passed and finally Jean was back on the road to camp. After a nice cake on the way and returning the wagon, the blond longed to get back to a place heated by a fire pit. Balanced on Maria, the male was riding through the forest at dusk. The aching feeling was still in his leg, preventing him from walking much. Although, it did feel much better than the previous day. 

Beside the horse walked the cowboy, his hat tipped down and his large books thumping against the dirty path. A small, rolled up cigarette was lit in one hand, providing a faint glow as the sun began to set. Said hand moved closer to the face, lips wrapping around the toxic weapon and taking in a draw. His hand dropped back to his side carefully, in caution that the flame would burn out, and released a gush of smoke into the night air. 

The road was empty, apart from the two travelling, and yet nothing felt calm. There was a tension in the air, thicker than the boots in which they walked in. The state of Arilock was freezing cold, especially at this time of night. Men were returning home to their wives, from whatever job they’d of been doing. Whether it be hunting, or deliveries. There wasn’t much farming goes around here, it was far too cold. Instead, the hunt for elk and deer was much more profitable. That’s what Connie and even Sasha did, then would go on to sell them. 

As time went on, the impatience that Marco felt grew stronger and stronger. He knew he needed to get his hands on that ring, there was absolutely no time to mess around. Before he could even stop himself he turned his head sharply to the other man on his horse. “Y’gonna tell me who robbed your place? Or are we going to continue runnin’ around in circles?” He went straight to the point, taking a draw from his cigarette as he matched pace with the horse. 

It wasn’t hard to see the unpleasantness on Jean’s expression, it was almost pitiful. Memories were clearly clouding his brain, spreading over the sky like a bad storm and draining any happy feeling he had before. The beautiful hazel colour of his eyes turned a cold grey, and without an other second he turned his head away. 

A small murmur came from his lips, the sound of defeat finally being revealed from his depressing face. It wasn’t enough to hear though, so after a hum of dissatisfaction he was a lot clearer. “I said, the warrior gang!” Jean half yelled, his eyes widening in anger and frustration. He didn’t mean to come off so rude to the man who had helped him so much, but there was a line that had finally been crossed. 

“What, as in Reiner an’ his gang?” Marco asked in disbelief, he didn’t think they went for this sort of thing. “Yes, Marco. Them.” A reply through painfully gritted teeth replied. “They were the main people, anyway. There was a few others that were there too. They set fire, stole some shitty stuff, they locked the doors.” The blond continued to list, his hands fidgeting nervously with the horse’s mane. His nerves were disguised by the sheer frustration that he also felt.

As the tension got worse, Marco tried to be a bit more sympathetic. “Jeez, sounds bad.” He tried to converse positively with Jean, but God did it backfire. “Sounds bad? Sounds bad? Of course it was bad, they killed my damn family! But that doesn’t matter, does it? Oh no, as long as you get whatever shitty thing you’re looking for. That damn ring, ain’t it?” Jean snapped, the frustration turning to pure anger as the stranger even dared to try sound pitiful. He usually wouldn’t curse as much as he did there, he wasn’t raised like that, but now no one was here to give him a slap on the wrist for it. 

“Like givin’ you a place to sleep wasn’t good enough?! Givin’ you something warm to wear? Not letting you freeze to death out in the cold with jack shit? But no, I’m the bad guy.” Marco retaliated, not letting himself be snapped at by someone who he had gone out of his way to help. “There wasn’t even a need for me to do this, I’d of found out who it was either way. People talk. You’re just extra weight on my back! Did this outta the goodness of my heart, so when we get back you can just get out.” The cowboy finalised, glaring angrily up at the rude man on his horse. They were almost at the camp now anyway; so he expected Jean to leave. 

Before another word left Jean’s mouth a large object moved in front of them, scaring the mare and having her rear up. Thankfully, Jean was enough of a capable rider to sit the spooked creature while he tried to adjust his eyes to what was going on. A loud howl rang throughout the woods, followed by multiple other. Without the chance to even shoot or run, Marco had been knocked over by the creature that he now recognised as a wolf. 

The shouting had put his guard down, focusing too much on getting his point across to the annoying Kirstein than keeping an eye out for anything dangerous in the woods. Now he wrested for his life in attempt to get the beast off of him. His gun pressed painfully into his back as he struggled more, making him groan out in extreme pain as he pushed the shoulders of the slavering wolf’s body away, just enough so his face wasn’t bitten off. In a sad attempt to get his handgun, he ended up knocking it away rather than slipping it out of it’s holster effectively. 

A cry of pain left his mouth as he felt the monster’s claws dig into his chest, trying to reach for his handgun. There was no chance he was going to be able to roll over enough to get the gun straps off his back and then shoot the wolf from this distance. Unfortunately his gun was no where to be found, it must of fell from the holster when he was knocked over and made a feeble attempt to get it out. He thought he was going to be dead within seconds. 

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. 

Four loud gunshots rang through the freckled male’s ears, making him cringe as it hurt his head. He felt a large amount of weight suddenly on his chest, but no more movement from the animal. Pushing it off, Marco was able to sit himself up as he had a look around at what he expected to be a blooded crime scene. Maria was gone, he didn’t blame her. But what he saw instead honestly surprised him. 

Not a sound was heard after that, not a single movement. Everything in the night was still, not even a bird moved. The road was quiet, as if it was completely frozen in time. A figure stood high, a small handgun held shakily in his hands. The same handgun that Marco had accidentally dropped when fighting the wolf. In front of the blond figure, three large creatures lay dead in the night. 

A few moments passed before either of them finally moved. Jean lowered the gun, only holding it in one hand now. He rotated his body back around to the man on the floor, who moments earlier was shouting at him. A sigh left his mouth, the cold air making it steam and disintegrate into the evening. He advanced towards Marco, hobbling due to the pain in his leg. A hand stretched out towards a more dirty hand, offering hun help up. 

“Thanks.” Was all Marco was able to spit out in shock, gently taking the other’s hand and pulling himself onto his feet. His eyes stared at the dead bodies, noticing how each one had a small, red hole in the middle of their heads. As he let Jean go, his hands raised to his mouth so he could whistle on Maria. The atmosphere was thick with awkwardness, God he wish that Jean would just speak. 

He couldn’t believe how good of a shot Jean was, even he wouldn’t of been able to kill those wolves all at once. It was quick thinking too, he’d of probably been dead if Jean was any slower. Usually, Marco never had an issue with any primitive creatures. But this time he had a distraction, he was too busy arguing to acknowledge the howling or the growls before it was too late. Now his heart raced and his chest ached from being violently pawed at. 

After a minute or so in a very uncomfortable silence, with Marco continuously whistling and calling on his horse while Jean stood patiently leaning on one leg, Maria finally trotted back to them. Only when the mare was sure that she was safe. When she returned, Marco held her reins as she was mounted by the injured blond, still silent. He didn’t speak much either, he’d rather stay quiet and just go back to his camp. 

Minutes later, Maria was untacked and hitched to the wooden fence near the camp, keeping the rope tied to her bridle loose incase of an emergency. She was quite content just standing and eating grass, laying down as the night went on. There was never any bother where Marco lived, no one really rode past and there wasn’t evil creatures either. 

Sitting by the fire pit, Jean rolled up his trouser leg as he stared at the bandage around his shin. It was a little bloody, but didn’t feel nearly as bad as yesterday. The pain didn’t feel as spread out now, instead just a throbbing annoyance that worsened when he put any pressure on it. He unraveled the bandage, tossing it to the side for now. The bandage revealed a large black and blue bruise blooming across his leg, petals of green and yellow hidden between the dark colours. There was still wounds which had stopped bleeding, he wasn’t sure if anything was broken though. 

“Looks sore.” Marco mumbled as he sat on a chair, having it placed near Jean but not enough for it to be awkward, but also not far away enough for it to be awkward. A poor attempt to kill the silence actually made Jean snicker slightly, his hands pushing the trouser leg back down over his wound. “Yes, I’m sure it’ll get better though.” He replied hopefully, trying to make the conversation light and much nicer than earlier. 

Hesitating at first, the raven then went on to apologise for earlier. “Listen, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. You can stay for as long as you need.” Marco assured, surprisingly offering the other to stay for longer. “It will be a bit of work trying to find these bastards, but it’s what I need to do.” He explained, making an effort to give Jean justification on why he was going at these lengths to get the ring. “It isn’t a money thing, it’s a life or death thing.”

There was a silence. Hazel eyes just focused on the small pile of wood, before leaning forward to light it. Warmth was needed in this freezing cold night. 

“We better get that damn ring then, huh?”


	6. Mutiny Below

Hours had turned to days, days had turned into agonisingly long weeks. The hunt for the ring had been tricky, Marco must of spoken to ten different people in attempt to track down the Warrior gang. It was getting tiresome, especially how he hadn’t kicked a certain someone out of his camp. The company was irritating and awkward at first, but over time it had began to feel more normal. He had helped Jean out a bit more, buying him his own cheap outfits and showing him the ways of living outside. It was hard to impress the blond, especially when his toilet had been replaced with a hole in the ground. 

The Kirstein had also gotten his own horse. After insisting to Marco he had no place to go on the night of their first meet, it turns out the liar actually did have some friends. There was tension between them though, he could tell as they weren’t polite to each other. One was a doctor, which Marco found extremely convenient. Living under the same roof was a bounty hunter, as well as a stable owner. 

“Take ‘er, Jean.” He remembered the stable owner, a man named Floch, offer. This red-haired guy showed sympathy towards Jean, which he had not liked. Marco didn’t strike him as the one wanting attention out of pity. Nevertheless, he did eventually take the horse for free. The Nokata horse mare, with a grey coat and darker mane and tail, seemed more than happy to wander off with the Kirstein. He had handled the horse with great care, as Marco had witnessed him do so with Maria. He valued that as an important trait, a man who treated animals with care was usually a good and kind person. 

While they were there, Jean finally gave in to having his leg looked at. While he was at his doctor friend, Eren Jaeger, his leg was properly cleaned and treated. Medicine was also given to the injured, just some simple stuff to take the pain away. The Eren guy seemed friendly enough, despite how Jean kept snapping at him every so often. Marco began to question if Jean was mean to this guy, especially how he was just sitting there and taking the insults. At the same time, he began to wonder if the doctor was holding back after what happened with Jean’s family. 

After their trip to Dastow, the other major city in Taltbrook, they had wandered back home. Now both having a horse, it definitely took less time travelling. Marco knew they’d need to take a break though, it was getting far too late and both of them were exhausted. He’d stop in a town in Cohampholm, where Jean’s old home was. He did not have the money for an inn, especially not a room for the both of them. 

“I’m exhausted.” Jean spoke out, lazily sitting on the horse. If she were to suddenly bolt or spook, Marco doubted the other was sitting on properly enough to be balanced and stay on. “You don’t know anywhere we can stay?” He asked, riding up beside Marco. The other looked equally exhausted, but didn’t bother complaining. It didn’t help either of them. 

Nodding, Marco pointed to a large, wooden building that was settled on a hill. The sound of music played from the area, it definitely seemed like an inn. A lively one. 

“I could probably get us a room in there.” The cowboy reckoned, taking some bills from his pocket and counting them. “S’ppose I’ll need to take the floor, then.” He added quietly, knowing that there wasn’t enough for the both of them to get a room each. It would be uncomfortable, but he did assume that there was no chance on this god-forsaken earth that Jean Kirstein could be coerced into sleeping on the floor when there was a perfectly good bed right there. 

The inn was nice enough up close. A man came out and took both of their horses, leading the mares off somewhere behind the inn. Stables, it was clear to think. Then, once the two males entered, they were greeted with the melody of a popular ragtime song that was being blasted on the piano. A middle-aged man with a balding head played heartily, nodding his whole body along with the beat. 

A smile was brought to Jean’s lips as he looked around, many people dancing and laughing drunken. He hadn’t visited an inn before, there was never a need. Of course he went to the bar a couple times, but it wasn’t ever anything like this. “Can we afford a couple drinks?” He asked, turning back to Marco. He knew he’d have to pay the other back sometime, he was taking a lot of his money. 

“In here? Never thought this would be your scene.” A hasty voice replied, a smile matching Jean’s being returned. “I guess we could get a couple. Take the edge off of the last few weeks.” He concluded, settling for the idea that they could have a few drinks. A pleased Jean walked to the bar, ordering whatever they were able to afford. 

Old Overholt was the strong whisky that they both had, although Marco theorised it was watered down to be cheaper. He didn’t mind, after each drink they had it was more tempting to spend the rest of his money. Apart from the rent money, of course, as he bought a room for the night before he ended up spending it. 

The blond seemed happy enough, sitting at the table with his drink. After a few drinks he was grinning and watching the dancing and the instrument playing, slapping his knee in time to the beat when the music got good. Guitars and violins were brought out as it for later in the night, and suddenly the two males forgot how tired they originally were. 

“Come on!”

“There is absolutely no way-“

“It’ll be fun, stop worrying.”

“I don’t even know h-“

“Who cares?! Just get up!”

After much convincing and tugging of arms, Jean had managed to drag Marco up onto the floor where the others in the inn were dancing. Marco wasn’t sure if he’d call it dancing though, more rather bodies stumbling around in a rhythm with heavy hands clapping together. His new friend found it good enough, though. Even with his sore leg, he was subtly limping along as he walked. 

“This- ‘s stupid, absolutely stu~pid.” Marco pointed out, feeling himself sway back and forth. It was more the alcohol than the music, but he wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about the smirking blond, tapping his feet away in an absolutely awful attempt at dancing. It had Marco laughing though, full on belly aching laughs as he awkwardly danced along in time. Sober Marco would blush at the thought of acting so ridiculous, but right now drunk Marco wasn’t complaining in the slightest. 

The music began to change though as it got into the earlier hours of the morning. It was more slower, with much more guitar. Jean was smiling, though. His sways were slower, looking around as people laughed quietly and danced together. The man playing the guitar even looked like he was dancing with it. He turned back to Marco and stepped forward, clasping one of his hands in the others. He then placed a hand gently on the man’s firm shoulder, attempting to sway in time with him. 

Despite the confusion on Marco’s face, he didn’t resist. He didn’t think anyone would care if he wasn’t dancing with a girl, people were too drunk and carefree to worry about that now. He hoped they assumed it didn’t mean anything “weird”, which Marco thought it didn’t. His chest throbbed a couple times as he laced his fingers with the smaller, softer’s hand. His free hand rested on Jean’s side, since he was shorter Marco just thought of him as the “girl” in this dance. 

If he wasn’t drunk there was no way he’d be seen acting like this, but he hadn’t had a good drink in a while and he was enjoying this. His eyes scanned the blond, looking at the bright blond tips of his hair, the gorgeous golden colour that shone in his eyes, his sharp jaw, the subtle grin across his face...

“This is nice.” The other pointed out, interrupting Marco’s train of thought. It was far from perfect, feet were trampled on and tables were bumped into, but the two somehow had a rhythm through all the drunk stumbling. “I never have fun like this, never just casual fun.” Jean added, thinking if he held eye contact with Marco a second longer he’d explode. Both looked away, Jean staring at his collar and Marco glancing over his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” The raven-haired male mumbled in response, his gaze being met by glares from men and women near the bar. They did not look like friendly glares, more like disgusted and cautious glares. He took this as a sign to stop, to put an end to this situation before he fell any deeper. “C’mon,” he encouraged, pulling his hands away from Jean’s, “let’s go to the room.”

The walk to the room wasn’t something of a graceful trip. The mission of both of them getting up the stairs properly was interesting, but they managed to claw their way up the railing to their room. Marco stopped by the door and unlocked it, the key clenched in his shaky hand. Eventually he got the door unlocked, to reveal a nice bedroom. There was a large bed, a bedside table with a lit candle, a rug, a window and a set of drawers. 

“Finally!” Jean cried out, making a dash towards the bed and collapsing onto it. He star-fished his arms out, almost as if he was hugging the bed. “I’ve missed this so much!” He exclaimed happily, clearly joyful at the fact he would no longer need to sleep on the floor. Even if it was for one night. 

Kicking his boots off, he ignored the sigh Marco gave as he unbuckled his belt, dropping it on the bedside table. Jean climbed into the bed, seeming almost excited that he was sleeping on some proper furniture. He patted the space beside him, inviting Marco to lay next to him. 

The other seemed shocked at this request, though. “Jean, no. That ain’t what we ‘bout to do.” Marco grumbled, stumbling to where the rug was and taking off his boots and his hat. “I’m ju-sht fine down here, thanks.” His words slurred a bit, he didn’t even sound sure of himself. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jean interrupted, “it’s not a big deal. All we’re doing is sleeping, it isn’t like anyone’s coming in. I thought you were some hot-shot criminal, but here you are worrying about sharing a bed. Never suspected you for some old-fashioned ordeals.” 

Surprisingly, Jean still spoke in his same annoying, smart sounding voice. Those words did get Marco thinking though, maybe he was overreacting and making this something bigger than it was. It did look a bit queer, but if Jean didn’t feel bothered by it then should he?

After staring into expecting, beautiful hazel eyes, Marco huffed and walked over to the other side of the bed. “‘aven’t slept in one for a while.” The raven pointed out, patting the bed. He then lay down on his back, not bothering pulling the blanket over himself. Instead, he lay over the sheets. “T’s comfy.” He added, an awful attempt at conversation after a slightly awkward moment. 

“Mhmm.” Jean hummed, leaning over and blowing the candles out. After hours of dancing he was ready to fall asleep. He lay down, the blanket pulled up to his chin, with his back to Marco. “Goodnight.” He whispered, the sound of music and laughter still ringing in his ears. When he heard a “G’night, Jean,” in response, he fell asleep with a small smile on his face.


	7. Mutiny Below

The first thing that had woke Marco was the feeling of a bright light shining on his face, his head pounding. He groaned instantly, covering his eyes with his arm to avoid the sun rays beating down on his face. His whole body felt heavy, as if attempting to move a muscle would be like trying to move a planet. Too much effort. 

All the memories of the night before flooded Marco’s brain. The cowboy recalled how him and Jean had entered an inn, got rather drunk, danced around then went to their room and slept in the same...

His eyes flew open as he realised that he wasn’t completely alone. Turning his head to the right, his olive eyes met with a closed pair next to him. A sigh of relief left him as Marco was glad Jean didn’t have to see his ridiculous reaction to the memory. Now that he looked at Jean, he realised how peaceful the other seemed asleep. 

The sun beams lit up the features on Jean’s face, exposing a few faded freckles carefully dotted across his face. Dashingly long eyelashes were rested on his cheek, almost like an image of an angel. Blond tuffs of hair pointed in every direction, but it was the type of messy that looked good. His lips looked soft and a light shade of pink, like the colour of a rare rose that was hidden from the destructive population. Something beautiful and delicate, that would be destroyed the second the greedy world got a clutch on it. 

Marco blushed slightly and had to look away, even though a peculiar and strong emotion was building up inside him. He felt his heart beating in his chest, speeding up every time he glanced over at the other. This was creepy, Marco had to stop. Maybe sleeping in the same bed as another man had tainted his thoughts, or he was getting paranoid it would taint his thoughts so he was thinking odd things. 

Not having the heart to wake Jean up, Marco began to collect his things and get ready to go. 

The ride back to camp wasn’t as awkward as either men assumed it would be. Jean had seemed calm, riding along on his new horse. He spent some time trying to decide on a name for the beast, neither him or Marco had any ideas yet. The other had seemed lost in thought, but Jean had guessed it was just a bad hangover. He’d never guess that Marco was rethinking his whole life, his whole attitude towards sexuality, how he’d just thought that he’d never find a wife. 

The cowboy had avoided eye contact with Jean, just staring down at Maria’s mane. His thoughts drifted back to this morning, how it felt to have woken up next to the other. His whole body was filled to the brim with emotions, emotions he didn’t recognise. Emotions he didn’t think he should be feeling, especially not to Jean. The best way he could describe it was protectiveness, but even then there was something else there. 

When they reached the camp, Marco hitched both their horses and headed straight for a seat. He groaned, sitting back as he tried to forget about all of the things he was worrying about. No more Jean, no more scary feelings, no more weird impulses.

That was until the unwanted character sat down next to Marco, a concerned look on his face. “Hey, are you alright? You look awful.” Jean worried, pulling a chair over and waiting for an answer. 

“It’s fine.” Marco mumbled dismissively, waving his hand in an attempt to get Jean away. “J’st a hangover, that’s all.” He added, trying to seem more convincing. 

Jean didn’t buy it, but he decided to let it go. “Alright, if you need anything then tell me.” He said sincerely, before moving away and approaching the tent. The blond attempted to continue the conversation, finding the tension within the camp uncomfortable. Worst thing was, he didn’t know why there was tension. 

“I should really get some books, huh?” He asked as he thought about how nice it’d be to read. “What have we got planned for today?” Jean thought that they might be doing something exciting, or dangerous. 

Marco paused, sighing as he realised that he couldn’t mope around all day trying to figure out what was going on inside his head.

“We can go hunting, how about that?” He responded, thinking it would do them some good to go get their own food. “We can sell some, too.” Marco continued with a shrug, knowing they needed to top up on money. 

“Hm, alright. And the ring?” 

“The Warriors have headed north, possibly up Aricot mountain.” The brunette reminded, a sigh escaping his lips. “We need to take Connie’s wagon. Don’t worry about that for now.”

Since Jean was already very skilled in shooting it wasn’t hard for him to get the hang of hunting with Marco’s gun. Both men stood quietly in the forest, not making a muscle in fear that the creature meters in front of them might bolt away.

The blond raised the gun, pointing it straight at the deer’s head. Jean wasn’t even breathing at this point, all he could think about is how nice it would be to have some fresh food to cook when they got back. 

Their horses stood nearby, reins lazily slung over a branch to keep them still. Neither moved from their spot, which was convenient enough for the two who were trying to hunt.

A loud gunshot filled the forest, echoing and scaring birds away. The graceful creature plunged to the ground, spurts of blood covering the frost underneath it. Jean let out a sigh of relief that it was dead, he did not want to try chase it. He also didn’t want to have to trek around longer to find more animals to kill.

Marco was speechless as he stared at the scene in front of him. Jean seemed so relaxed, as if it was nothing. He wasn’t surprised, he remembered how Jean killed the wolves and saved his life. This was just magical to watch.

“That was incredible.” Marco complimented as he headed over to what would be their dinner. “Seriously.” He added, grabbing the deer and slinging it over his shoulders. “I’ll put it on Maria, she’s fine carrying cargo.”

A smile appeared on Jean’s lips as he scratched his nape sheepishly. “Aucht, it’s nothing really.” He shrugged off, heading towards his horse too. “I’m just glad we’re able to eat something that isn’t beans.” 

Dinner was pleasant for both of them. Much more than it had been the first few times they spent it together, either grumbling to themselves or sharing awkward conversations. It was full of laughs, jeers and casual conversation. Most of all, they were completely comfortable. 

Forgetting about how Marco felt when he woke up, he was able to communicate with Jean without panic that it was anything more than platonic. 

It didn’t last long, though.


End file.
